Page 35 of Daddy's Game

I hadn’t really given them a choice, but I wanted to set a good mood for the meeting. Of course they all worked for me, and expected to work extra hours at my behest. I supposed being with Grace, and seeing how she handled her underlings, had made me a bit more sensitive.

I snapped open my briefcase and took out a number of printouts I’d made earlier. I handed the stack to George Skinner, the COO of a modest but high performing tech start up I’d acquired a couple years back.

“What’s all of this, Mr. Richards?” he asked respectfully as he took the top stapled packet and passed the rest on down the table.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are going into the nonprofit business.”

I got blank looks back, as well as incredulous open mouthed stares and a few shocked gasps.

“What?” Sputtered Jane Hill, the iron haired and iron willed COO of my 24 hour fitness center empire. “What about the shareholders?’

“Calm down,” I said with a smile. “I didn’t say I was divesting all of my holdings. I’m just interested in growing the brand of one particular non-profit, right here in New York City.”

Skinner flipped through his packet, a confused frown etched onto his features.

“Wait, this is the Mizrani Center for the Performing Arts…aren’t we trying to acquire that building?”

“We are,” I said after only a moment’s pause.

“Then why are we trying to help them?” Skinner asked.

“Because I said so.”

Skinner nodded and returned his gaze to the packet.

“Good enough for me. You know, it looks like a pretty tightly run fiscal operation already. Can we really improve it enough to make a difference?”

“That’s what I pay you to do,” I said with only a hint of menace in my tone.

“I see a couple of things right now,” Hill said, her eyes narrowed as her gaze ran over the packet. “For one thing, the building could be registered with the historical district. Then it would qualify for grants and loans that could affect repairs.”

“There seem to be a lot of repairs,” someone else further down the table mused.

“Wait, if we help the current owner declare this a historical site, then won’t it be even harder to get the land it’s built on for our own purposes?”

I glanced over at Tom Helms, COO of Landsman frozen sandwich company. I’d acquired the company on a bet, but it had been reasonably profitable enough, even though Tom was a bit of a cad in his personal life.

“Yes, it likely will.”

“Isn’t that counter productive?”

I eyed him until he blanched.

“We don’t back away from challenges in this boardroom.”

“No sir, of course not,” Tom replied hastily.

“I don’t get it,” Skinner said after we’d brainstormed a few dozen ideas, and I’d written them on the power point projection. “Why don't you just bankroll the center? It would leap over a lot of red tape.”

“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself. I have no intention of starting now.”

That was the last time anyone asked a stupid question. We worked well after midnight, when I finally dismissed my team. I had a ton of their ideas saved on my laptop.

On a whim, I sent a text to Grace, not expecting a response so late.

Thinking of you.

Her response came immediately.

---